Turn away
by SpiltWords
Summary: Combeferre is a final year medical student at one of the biggest hospitals in Paris. He manages to get a placement on the cancer ward for a few months where he meets a peculiar girl, Eponine Thenarider. In his spare times he is part of a political group who officially meet on saturdays but unofficially meet most nights. TW: Cancer. Rated M, no sex or violence. Just cancer.
1. Chapter 1

It had taken years of hard work, lots of stress and plenty of tears to get this far. He was in his final year of his medical degree, a degree that had allowed his to meet one of his closest friends, Joly and now, here he stood. A medical intern at one of the busiest hospitals in the whole of Paris. Joly had already graduated, a year above him and was now a Doctor at the same hospital. In their spare time, they were part of a protest group that met every Saturday evening in the Café Musain, but quite often they met most nights.

Tonight was one of those nights, but Combeferre was working. The graveyard shifts always seemed to be the worst. Most of the patients were sleeping, and those that weren't tended to be the ones that were the main concern to the doctors. He'd asked to experience the cancer ward and was spending his next few months working there whilst Joly worked in the emergency room.

He was currently on his break, he'd finished his sandwich and now was trying to pass the time. If he was allowed to skip breaks, he would. He wanted to dive into his work and often got lost in it. He'd done so much overtime his lecturers had suggests that perhaps for his final year he took time off and concentrated on his exams but he knew he didn't need the extra time. He would easily pass them. He had a knack for remembering the smallest of details and when it was a subject he enjoyed, he could easily read up on it for hours.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he glanced at the list of patients that had been scrawled out on the white board that hung on the ward. There were various different forms of cancer among the patients, the most prominent seemed to be Leukaemia.

He paused as he noticed one of the names on the board. It looked oddly familiar but he couldn't be too sure why. He'd treated plenty of people in his time here, it was probably someone he'd seen before or maybe even someone he went to school with. It was highly likely, Paris wasn't as big as everyone liked to think it was, he'd learned that quite soon after starting work here. He'd treated plenty of people that he had known at some point or other. From his old child minders dodgy nail to his ex girlsfriends sisters dislocated shoulder.

He shrugged it off as he continued walking, listening to the gentle snores that came from each of the wards as he passed. Each little room off of the main corridor housed four beds, most of which were currently occupied. He paused as he heard the quite squeak of wheels up a head of him and cautiously followed it, glancing around. No one should be up at –he checked his watch- one forty in the morning.

He tilted his head to the side as he watched curiously as a young girl wheeled herself out into the corridor, her dark brown hair falling down her back as she swore at the chair as she bumped into the desk instead of turning the corner. She tried again, only this time she managed to wheel herself with more force into the solid object.

It took him all of his strength not to laugh, instead he settled on a bemused smile as he went to intercept her, putting his hand on her shoulder before she could continue down the corridor or in fact, into the desk again. She jumped at the sudden touch, almost toppling the wheelchair. He grabbed hold of the handles before she could fall out, carefully settling the wheels back on the ground.

"Were you trying to give me a heart attack?" She demanded as she looked up at him, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. She carefully glanced him over, noticing the stethoscope around his neck before she relaxed, at least he wasn't just some stranger. She wheeled the chair around to face him, raising her eyebrow.

"You looked like you were having steering trouble," he told her as he gestured at the desk less than a foot behind him. "I thought I'd come help before you woke the whole hospital."

She shrugged her shoulders lightly. "I've not had it long. They don't give you a driving test for one of these things do they?"

"If they did, you'd fail," he told her simply. "You really should be resting. It's highly important for your recovery. You see sleep helps the body to mend by-"

She ignored him as she glanced down at the wheelchair before furrowing her brow. "How do I get one of those electric ones?"

"Electric what?" He asked her, glancing around in his confusion. Wasn't he just talking about sleep?

"Wheelchairs!" She told him with an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes at him. "You know, chairs with wheels."

He smirked slightly and crossed his arms against his chest. She really was peculiar, if not slightly rude but he liked it. Most of the patients here just wanted to be left alone to sleep, it was nice to see one that still had some energy in them. "I don't know," he admitted. "I guess… you could buy one?"

She scoffed at him. "Do I look like I'm made of money? Come on Doc, I bet you can get me one. What will it take?"

"I have name," he told her, pointing to his name badge. She squinted as she tried to read it, leaning forward in the wheelchair. "Combeferre," he told her, giving her a small smile. "My names Combeferre."

She nodded her head as she leaned back in her wheelchair, crossing her arms against her chest. "My eye sight ain't so good anymore," she told him. "_Doctor Combeferre_," he pronounced his name slowly, dragging it over her tongue as she watched him.

He blushed from the extended attention to his name, running his fingers through his hair. "Do I get to know your name?"

"Are you my doctor?" She asked him, raising her eyebrow.

"I'm a medical student," he told her. "But I might be taking over some aspect of your care such as-"

"You talk a lot," she grinned. "I think I'd like you to be my doctor, you're not boring like the other doctors and you're nicer to look at."

He smiled slightly. "It would be my honour to be your Doctor…?"

"Eponine," she told him. "Just Eponine."

Of course, the name on the board.

* * *

"Stupid wire thing," Eponine gritted her teeth as she yanked at the IV that had been placed in her hand, trying to untangle it from her arm as she sat up in the bed. Whilst she'd been asleep she'd somehow managed to get herself completely wrapped up in it, which wouldn't be a problem if it didn't hurt.

"Let me," someone interrupted her, taking her by surprise. She raised her eyebrow as she glanced at the doctor that stood beside her bed, the same one that had stopped her a few nights before. With an annoyed huff she flopped back against the pillow and held out her arm for him, watching as he began to carefully untangle the wire with nimble fingers.

"I don't need it," she told him simply as she glared at it. If a look could make it disappear from her arm, that would be it but sadly it remained in her hand. She didn't miss the small smile that spread across his lips as he kept his eyes fixated on the task at hand.

"It's giving you medicine," he reminded her, just like every other doctor, nurse and whatever else in the place had before him. "It'll help with the pain."

"Yeah, well it hurts my hand," she told him stubbornly as she yanked her hand back to cross her arms tightly against her chest. At the same time Combeferre had taken hold of the tube, accidentally yanking it from her hand.

He hurriedly grabbed her hand as he took a dressing off the side and pressed it against the area. Blood was steadily seeping onto the white dressing as he raised her hand, holding it above her heart to try and slow the bleeding. She watched him wide eyed as he threw down the dressing on the side and grabbed another.

"That's a lot of blood," she told him, biting her lip. She was slowly turning pale as she watched the white begin to turn red as the minutes passed. He gave her an apologetic smile as he held the dressing down tightly. "Seriously, should it do that?"

He nodded his head in response as he concentrated, slowly peeling away the dressing and grabbed some cotton wool, wiping away the last trickle of blood. "It's normal," he told her. "The needle is meant to put the medicine into your bloodstream. When it got pulled out, it left a hole for the blood to come through-" He stopped himself as he noticed the sickly colour of her skin, quickly moving to grab a bowl off the side as she emptied the contents of her stomach. Maybe he could have began explaining that better.

He placed it down on the side before carefully laying her back against the bed, keeping a hold of her hand. "I think I'm going to have to put it in your arm this time," he told her as he looked at the wound on the back of her hand. "This needs cleaning and a dressing put on."

"No, oh no! No!" She protested as she tried to sit up but all it took was one of his hands on her shoulder to push her gently back down in the bed. "I'm not having another one of them _shoved _in me!"

"I won't shove it, I'll insert it," he told her half-heartedly as he placed her hand down on her lap, satisfied that most of the bleeding had stopped as he retrieved an antiseptic wipe from the set of draws in the corner of the room, that luckily, her bed was next to.

"You aren't shoving or inserting anything in to me!" She told him, her voice raising a few octaves as she stared at him, her eyes wide.

He smiled at her choice of words, apparently she had a nack for making things sound slightly crude as well. He couldn't help but think how much Courfeyrac and Grantaire, two of his closest friends, would like her should they ever get the chance to meet her. "It's essential that I give you another IV," he told her gently. "It'll make you feel better."

"I feel perfectly fine," she insisted, trying to pull her hand free as he began applying a dressing to the back of her hand, managing to keep her wrist still.

"I don't think you do," he told her. "You almost fainted at the sight of your own blood."

"Well wouldn't you if your own blood began pouring out of you hand?"

He shushed her as he pulled up a chair and grabbed another needle. "You'll feel a sharp scratch-"

"No! Don't!" She yelled, managing to wriggle her arm free and clutch it against her as she stared at him, chewing her lip.

He paused as he watched for a few moments before reaching his for her arm gently. "You're scared of needles, aren't you?"

"I am not!" She gasped as if it was the most scandalous suggestion in the world.

He grinned to himself as he sat back in the chair, raising his eyebrow at her. "Then let me do it."

"No!" She told him far too quickly. "I mean, I'm not a pin cushion!"

"It's just one little needle," he told her. "I'll even numb the area."

"Don't you have other patients to go bug?" She asked him quietly.

"I'm not bugging you, I'm treating you. Now hold out your arm."

She shook her head as she hugged it even closer. "I don't want to!"

"Eponine, you're making this much harder than it has to be."

She bit her lip as she looked down. "It hurts, okay?"

He frowned slightly. "I'll numb the area before I put the needle in. There's this gel-"

"That's not the point! It still hurts!" She told him.

He nodded his head slowly in understanding. "Well… would you rather have the pain in your hand or the pain everywhere else?"

She contemplated it for few moments. "I guess… my hand… it's not as bad…"

"If I don't put this needle in, you're going to have all of the other pain," he explained. "So, if you'll let me just put this needle in, you won't have to feel that."

She sighed as she nodded her head and held her arm out. She squeezed her eyes as she waited, feeling him put the cold gel on her wrist that made it tingle before she felt the sharp scratch. After a few moments she heard him stand up. "You can open your eyes now."

"Is it done?" She asked him quietly, slowly opening one eye to peer up at him.

He nodded his head as he smiled at her. "Don't pull this one out."

"It was your fault!" She protested as he helped her sit back up. Most of the colour had returned to her face and she no longer looked like she was going to faint on him.

"I have other patients to go see," he told her apologetically as he headed back towards the corridor. "But you pulled your hand away."

"Wait!" She called after him as she sat up a bit more, peering after him. "Will you come back in a bit? I like your company."

He hesitated as he glanced at her, his eyes meeting her hopeful brown ones before he nodded his head. "If that's what the patient wants."

"It is," she smiled faintly.

* * *

By the end of the week Combeferre had grown accustomed to all of his patients. Each one of them had a particular way that they wanted to be treated and he didn't mind. He liked listening to some of the stories that they had to tell him, whether it was about their families or friends or in some cases, stories that they had made up of the top of their heads, stories about dragons and fairies and everything in between. He had learned that most of the patients on the ward were young. They weren't quite young enough to be treated as children and they weren't quite old enough to be classed as adults.

Eponine, it turned out, was the eldest on the ward. It was only a few weeks until her eighteenth birthday. The youngest of the patients there had only just turned sixteen, he had been diagnosed with terminal leukaemia, they'd given him only a few months to live but his parents still held on hope. They were determined that chemotherapy could cure him. It was painful to watch them go through it, denying that there son didn't have long to live.

It was visiting time on the ward, family and friends crowded around the beds, making it near impossible to move. This tended to be the time that the doctors and nurses caught up with their paperwork and files, making sure that everything was filled in. However, Combeferre had done his hours earlier whilst he had a few moments, meaning he had time to check in on his patients and speak with their visitors, answering any questions that they had.

He frowned as he reached the small room where Eponines bed was. The other three beds were surrounded by visitors, talking in low voices as to not interrupt the other patients. Eponine, however, was alone. She was laid in her bed on her side, staring out of the window as she watched the drops of rain run down it.

He quietly walked over to her, sitting himself in the chair beside her bed. "You haven't had any visitors since I've been on this ward," he noted quietly.

She forced a small smile as she rolled her eyes. "Maybe you need a change of career. You're a good detective."

He frowned slightly. "It says in your file that you have family, they're your next of kin."

"It'd be a miracle if they ever came to this place," She muttered, more to herself than the medical student.

"Why do you say that?" He asked her gently.

"It's none of your business."

"It's essential for a patient to have a good support network in order to recover fully," he replied. "It _is_ my business."

She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, careful not to pull at the IV. "I'm tired," she told him quietly. "I think I want to be alone."

He frowned as he watched her before nodding his head. He was only a medical student, he wasn't her friend. He had to remind himself that. It was her business and not his. If her family chose not to visit her, then it was her business. Maybe it was her that didn't want them here, not the other way around. He stood up and cleared her throat but she didn't bother to look at him. "You know where I am if you need me."


	2. Chapter 2

The start of his second week hadn't gone great. During the evening of his ninth day on the ward one of the patients had sadly passed away. It wasn't the first time that he'd experienced the screeching cries of a mother that had lost a child, but it didn't make it any easier. He'd dragged himself away, letting the nurse comfort the family of the young boy.

The boy hadn't been much older than his own brother, fifteen years old. Much too young to die. He stepped into the staff room and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging lightly as he closed his eyes. After a few moments of relaxing in the silence of the room he opened the locker and pulled out his phone. He already had three texts from his roommate, each one of them made him smile faintly.

_Are you coming to the meeting tonight? You are, right? _

_I need you to look over this draft for me as soon as you get in. I've left a copy of it on the table._

_I ran out of paper, I had to use a pizza box. Don't throw it away!_

He'd met Enjolras in high school, it turned out that their parents were all once good friends. They'd met years ago but had sadly fallen out of contact but once the two boys became friends, their parents began talking again and meeting quite regularly. In return, Combeferre and Enjolras' teenage years consisted of lots of family outings together, meals and sleep overs.

After responding to the three texts, informing him that _yes, _he would be at the meeting and of course he would look at the draft, he always did and under no circumstances would he throw away anything that had writing on it, he put his phone away and left the staff room.

In the corridor he could still hear the wails of the Mother, she hadn't found any comfort in the kind nurses words. Combeferre would only get in the way if he went back there, it'd take a lot not to join her in her tears for the lost boy.

He glanced down the various little rooms that split off from the corridor, luckily most of the patients didn't seem to be paying attention to the sound. They were probably all used to it by now, that boy hadn't been the first to die here and he certainly wouldn't be the last. Most of them were talking, joking with each other whilst two girls sat in the corner, sharing headphones as they babbled over boy bands. There was one empty bed, however.

He glanced around, noticing the wheelchair that was gone from the corner. Curiously, he began to walk, still checking in on each of his patients as he passed. He hesitated as he heard the squeak of wheels as he reached the small room that resembled some kind of living room. It was set up with a television in the corner and sofas spread around the room. During the day, the patients that were able to walk about often came in here and during visiting hours as well. He didn't move from the door as he watched her.

Eponine sat at the window, her face barely inches from the glass as she watched the rain fall outside. The cries of the mother were barely audible here, it was mostly silent apart from the patter of rain against the glass. Outside it was dark, various lights lit up the car park and the floors below them. This ward was on the top of the building and the view spread out across most of Paris.

He hesitantly stepped inside, not bothering to turn on the light. She seemed fairly content in the dark. "Eponine?" He called gently, not wanting to startle her as he stayed stood behind her.

"The kids dead," she stated, her voice even as she continued to stare outside.

He cleared his throat as he slowly nodded his head. "He passed away about an hour ago," he told her, tilting his head to the side. He'd never seen her speak to any of the other patients and it surprised him that she paid attention to what went on around them.

"That's going to be me one day," she told him, her voice dark as she slowly looked up at him.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that and his silence seemed to amuse her as she smirked. "Are you scared of dying?" He asked her after a few moments.

"What is there to be scared of? Being scared won't make it go away, it won't stop it," Eponine reasoned as she ran her fingers over the cold glass. "Maybe that reincarnation thingie will happen. I could be a bird."

"You want to be able to fly?" He asked her curiously.

She laughed as she shook her head. "No, I want to be able to go away."

* * *

Combeferre stepped inside the Musain and out of the rain, his hair stuck to his face as he slid into his seat at the table where the blonde man stood, his passionate words hanging in the air as he continued his speech about the oppressed. He was only about ten minutes late but Enjolras had left him a note stuck to the fridge telling him to take his time.

The day had been particularly hard, after the boys mother had left four hours after saying goodbye to her son, two new patients had been admitted to the ward. Working on the cancer ward was harder than he had expected it to be, he felt completely drained and he'd barely been there for over a week.

Joly slid into the seat beside him, moving from his place beside Bossuet and handed the medical student a beer. Combeferre smiled faintly before shaking his head, tapping the pager that was attached to his belt. Joly nodded his head in understanding as he took the drink for himself and took a sip. "So how are you coping?" He asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt their leader and be on the receiving end of one of his glares.

"It's… hard," Combeferre nodded his head slowly. "Harder than I expected, harder than any of the other wards I've been on. We lost a patient today."

Joly squeezed his friends arm gently. "You know, if you aren't coping, I'm sure they would understand and allow you to transfer to another ward."

"No," Combeferre frowned. "No, I do enjoy it... well, perhaps enjoy isn't the right word… but it's still hard. I wish I could cure them. They're all so young… they have so much life ahead of them…"

"We wish we could cure all of our patients Combeferre, but it's just not possible…" Joly sighed before patting his arm and returning to his previous seat.

Combeferre spent a majority of the night listening to his friends speak with passion about the oppression of their people but for once, Combeferre had nothing to say. He'd spent so much time at the hospital that his mind hadn't had chance to concentrate on whatever topic Enjolras had picked. He'd read over the draft that Enjolras had left for him, all twenty pages but none of it had gone in. Luckily, tomorrow he had a day off which meant he could spend time looking over the mass of words that were wrote out in Enjolras' spindly handwriting.

By midnight he was lounged across the sofa, his eyes closed as he allowed the poet to play with his hair and run his fingers over his scalp, gently massaging him. He yawned as he tried to force his eyes open again, feeling the hands move down to his shoulders and rub at the knots there.

"I'm about to head home," Enjolras informed him as he stood in front of the sofa, his laptop clutched tightly against his chest. "Are you coming?"

Reluctantly Combeferre pulled away from Jehan, thanking him for his skilled hands before he trailed after Enjolras and towards the door. They called their goodbyes before stepping out into the night, luckily the rain had decided to stop and the breeze was pleasantly warm as they walked.

"I'll look over that draft first thing," Combeferre promised him as he walked, giving him a lopsided smile.

Enjolras frowned as he glanced him over, pulling the keys from his pocket. "You should sleep in, you look exhausted. The speech can wait-"

"It's fine," Combeferre waved off his friends worries. "I can't sleep when it's light anyway."

Enjolras nodded his head briefly as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. "I'm going to write up some more speeches, you should really head to bed."

"That's probably a wise idea," Combeferre agreed as he trudged towards his room. "Let me know if you need me to look at anything."

"Go to sleep, Ferre," He scolded him as he sat down at the desk, watching his friend disappear behind his bedroom door.

It was roughly an hour later when he heard the door swing open and a frantic Combeferre dash across the room, yanking his jumper over his head as he went. "Emergency at the hospital," he called to Enjolras as he went, dashing out onto the street.

Within ten minutes he was at the hospital, he didn't bother to wait for the lift as he dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was thankful for Joly insisting they all join a gym and stay fit over the summer, it was paying off. He reached the twelfth floor with still some breath as he hurried down the corridor, urgently looking around for which of the patients he was here for.

One of the nurses looked up as he saw him, quickly motioning for him to follow. "Room c," she informed him hurriedly. "Eponine Thenardier."

"What happened," he demanded as he took the notes from her and thumbed through them. By now he knew most of his patient's history but Eponine seemed to be one of the only ones that he hadn't made himself familiar with. Most of the time she seemed quite healthy.

He paused as he glanced up as he reached the room, his heart beating a little faster. He'd become quite fond of Eponine over the past week, most of the time she was high spirited but tonight, she looked sick, nothing like the girl he'd spoken to earlier.

He pulled his eyes away from the girl that now looked tiny underneath the blankets that covered her body. The other patients had been moved out of the room to give her more room and privacy. He glanced over her notes, trying to take in the fact.

_Diagnosed three years ago. Four recurrences of tumours. Mitoses and cytoplasms. No longer responding to chemotherapy. Little improvement over the past few months, health steadily deteriorating. Tumours spread into spinal column. Diagnosis, Medullolastoma._

"How has her condition been?" He asked quietly as he stopped beside her bed, glancing at the nurse.

"She was complaining of a headache, we gave her paracetamol to treat the symptoms. About an hour ago she began vomiting and had been struggling to grip with her hands."

He frowned as he nodded his head before gently placing his hand on Eponines shoulder and shaking her. She blinked a couple of times before groaning, rolling her head to the side as she tried to close her eyes. "Eponine," he said gently as he removed his hand. "I need you to stay awake for a few minutes."

She reluctantly opened her eyes as she glanced up at him. "I thought you went home," she smiled faintly.

"This is a very drastic way to get to see me again," he joked lightly before thumbing through her notes again. "You were admitted because you need to go to surgery. I think we need to speed that up and get you down there tonight, I need to send you for an MRI scan first."

She yawned as she rubbed her eyes, leaning her head back on the pillow. "What did I ever do to you?" She asked him. "Do you cut up all the people you don't like?"

"I'm doing this to help you," he told her with a small smile. "Once you've had the operation you will have to stay under observation and have a few tests run, after that you can return home."

"I prefer it here though," she told him, forcing a small smile as she closed her eyes.

Combeferre fidgeted as he laid across the sofa in the staffroom. Once he'd received the results from Eponines MRI scan which warranted her going straight for surgery, the nurse had informed him that he could go home but he'd refused. He wanted to wait and make sure that she made it through the surgery without a hitch. There was a doctor due to come on duty before she was out but he didn't care.

He managed to get roughly a few hours sleep before a gentle knock on the door woke him. He sat up quickly, looking at the blurry nurse at the door as he felt around for his glasses. Once he found them he stood up, following the younger man down the corridor and to where Eponine laid. They'd moved her into a private room for the time being. Thick bandage was wrapped around her head and an oxygen mask had been placed over her mouth and nose, other than than the usual tubes and wires were connected to her.

He glanced at the surgeon that stood beside her bed, fiddling with the last of the wires before glancing up. "The procedure went well, we were able to remove the tumour from her Cerebellum. The MRI scan showed no tumours in the tentorium," the man informed him with a smile.

"It has spread into her spine though," Combeferre pointed out grimly. "It's in her bones now."

"Unfortunatly. Within time it may also spread into other parts of her body," The surgeon added as he glanced down at Eponine.

_Pelvis, arms, legs, lymph nodes, peritoneum, liver, lungs… _Combeferre listed silently as his eyes wandered over Eponines body with each body part, pausing as he thought about the various complications. He'd studied this in detail not long ago, not for any kind of test but more out of interest. He'd familiarised himself with most kinds of cancers.

"You can't stay here all night for one patient, you should go home and rest," the surgeon interrupted his thoughts.

"I'll sleep in the staffroom, I want to make sure she is okay."

The man frowned. "There are other doctors here."

"I still want to stay," he insisted before continuing. "I would do it for any patient."

* * *

Once he was settled in the staffroom he pulled out his phone, a quick text to Enjolras informed him not to expect him home until later and that he would be sleeping at the hospital for a bit before he looked down at the contact details in his lap. The nurses had told him that they had contacted her parents before but they never showed up, they'd requested not to be contacted unless it was an emergency and Eponine had agreed. To him, this was an emergency.

He tapped the number into his phone before hitting dial. He listened to it ring a few times before it was finally answered. "What d'you want? D'you know what bloody time it is?" Someone snapped on the other end.

He was taken aback as he cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts as he spoke. "Hello, Monsieur Thenardier? I'm a doctor at the hospital. I'm treating your daughter, Eponine Thenardier. We had to rush her into surgery-"

"Is she dead?" The voice interrupted him gruffly.

"I- No, no Monsieur. I reassure you that she's recovering well at the moment. I just wanted to inform you that-"

"Well you go tell 'er to 'urry up and die," the voice barked before the line went dead. Combeferre sat silently, the phone still held to his ear as he blinked in shock at the mans reaction.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a quiet day on the ward, in the past week quite a few of the beds had come free. The patients had either moved on or sadly, passed away. He sat at the nurses station in the middle of the ward as he rested his chin on his hand, reading through each of the patients notes. He remembered how at first when he had became a medical student, he felt like he was invading on something private when he first looked through his patients notes but now he did it freely, learning small details about each of the patients he had come in to contact with.  
He picked up the next folder, pausing as he read Eponines name along the top. He looked up, from where he was sat he could see her bed and she fast asleep despite it being midday. He hesitated before opening the file, deciding to do some research on her health. It'd help with his treatment of her anyway.  
She had Medulloblastoma, the first tumour had been found in her brain. They had operated on that one and removed it but the operation had affected her eyesight. They had provided her with glasses but she had refused to wear them. That was a year ago. She was readmitted after her symptoms returned, an MRI scan revealed another tumour on her brain and a smaller one on her spine. It seemed the most logical solution was to operate and remove the tumours. The one on her spine was affecting her balance, meaning for now she was restricted to a wheelchair. It wasn't terminal and her chances at recovery seemed quite high.  
He smiled slightly to himself as he sat back in his seat, tapping the pen against the desk as he watched her from where he was. Admittedly, he was glad it wasn't terminal. He'd hate to see such a spirited girl lose her life to something like cancer. The world needed more Eponines in it.

* * *

_It was a few days after her sixteenth birthday when she started to get the headaches. She decided it was nothing, maybe she was getting hayfever despite it being late October. By mid-November she was getting worse and her sister had started to notice. _  
_Azelma sighed as she flopped down on the edge of her sisters bed in their shared room, watching her as she rested her head against the desk in the centre of the room, pushed up against the wall. "You should go to the Doctors."_  
_"You know how Dad feels about Doctors," she sighed as she tried to keep her face buried in her arms, blocking out as much light as she could. It was just a migraine, she had started telling herself, but it just wouldn't go away._  
_"He thinks they're interfering rich men," Azelma recited their fathers words as she sat there, chewing her lip. "But I really think you should…"_  
_"He'd kill me if he knew," Eponine argued, finally having enough of the conversation. She stood up, pushing herself away from the desk and taking a step back. She swayed unsteadily on her feet as she tried to find her balance before taking a few cautious steps over to her bed. Azelma shifted along to give her room to flop down beside her, staring up at the ceiling with her feet dangling over the side. She was small for her age, smaller than most girls whilst Azelma had managed to grow to a normal height. Everyone always seemed so surprised to find out that the redhead and brown haired girl were sisters and not friends, and even more surprised to find that Eponine was the eldest of the two._  
_"Maybe you just need glasses," Azelma told her hopefully. "That euro shop sells glasses, we can get some of them!"_  
_Eponine smiled faintly and nodded her head. "Sure, we'll try that. Now get off, I'm tired."_  
_"It's only midday," Azelma frowned as she complied, covering the distance between their beds in a few steps and sitting on her own._  
_"I was up all night," she shrugged. "Doing some job for Dad."_

_It was Christmas day and like every other Christmas, she was out on the streets. They didn't celebrate like most families did. They didn't have a meal together or put a tree up, there wasn't any decorations of presents. Christmas day just involved one tradition for them, getting up as soon as it got light and hunting the streets to find a house that had something worth taking. Sometimes Eponine would be sent with her sister to knock on the door and sing the first carol that came into their now she was stood watch. _  
_They'd found a house that was empty on the edge of the city. Her father and his gang were inside, taking anything that was worth a bit of money. She closed her eyes as she leaned her head back against the wall. She was coming down with some kind of bug. _  
_After a few minutes she heard the window shut and the men appear back around the corner and quickly took the items that were thrust into her arms by her Father. She sighed as she glanced around before following them down an alley, heading back home to check out what they'd stolen._  
_They were almost home when the snow globe slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, the glass cracking as it hit the floor and the liquid slowly oozing out. Her father turned, narrowing his eyes at her. "Useless brat, d'you know how much that's worth?"_  
_"Not a lot now," the youngest of the men smirked, winking at Eponine._  
_She swallowed hard as she took a step back, tripping over a bin and dropping the rest of the items that she carried in the process. She flinched as her Father stepped forward, grabbing her roughly by her hair. "You'll pay for that," he threatened. He raised his hand, slapping her across the face as she cried out. "Useless brat!"_  
_"Lay off her," one of the men smirked as he watched. "It is Christmas you know."_  
_Thenardier turned to the man, his eyes still narrowed as he let go of her, leaving her to fall back against the ground. "Don't tell me what to do."_  
_"Lets just go," the younger man groaned, grabbing Eponine roughly by the arm and yanking her to her feet. She quickly grabbed the items that she had dropped, keeping her eyes cast down on the floor as she followed them home._  
_The men spent most of the night getting drunk. Azelma was locked away in their bedroom and their Mum was no where to be seen. Eponine sighed as she was sent to fetch another beer, she should have been used to this by now. She grabbed it from the fridge and set it on the side, gripping the bottle opener tightly as she tried to open it but her hands were shaky, she couldn't get it right. She gritted her teeth in frustration as she tried again until she felt a hand close over hers._  
_She jumped, bumping back into the body that slid an arm around her waist to keep her still. "Let me," he breathed against his ear as he opened the bottle for her._  
_She smiled as she turned around in his arms, looking up at him. "You should be with them, Parnasse," she told him as she placed a kiss on his lips._  
_He laughed as he rolled his eyes. "They wont even notice I'm gone," he told her as he ran his fingers through her hair. He took her by her hips and pulled her up onto the counter, standing between her legs as he kissed her again. "Merry christmas."_  
_She snorted as she shoved his chest lightly. "Since when did you become all soppy? Been watching too many Christmas films?"_  
_"I'm trying to be nice," he told her, grabbing her wrists before she could try and push him again._  
_She smiled as she leaned down, resting her forehead against his. "Maybe next Christmas we'll have our own place."_  
_"Of course," he told her. "We'll be out of this place by then. Just me and you, Ponine."_  
_"And Azelma, she can come too, right?"_  
_"Anything you want," he told her. "I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."_  
_They stayed in the same position for a few minutes, just the two of them. One day they'd have a better life, just the two of them. She flinched at the pain that radiated through her forehead, her face scrunching up. Parnasse frowned as he looked up at her. "What's wrong?"_  
_"Nothing," she told him as she forced a smile, rubbing at her forehead. "I'm fine, really."_  
_"Azelma said you've been feeling ill," he told her, raising his eyebrow._  
_"I'm _fine_," she insisted, shaking her head. She flinched as the pain radiated through her forehead and around the side of her head again._  
_"For Gods sake, Ponine. You look awful," he told her bluntly as he took a step back._  
_"I'm fine!" She insisted as she slid off of the counter and grasped the side of it as she stood up. "I'm perfectly fine!"_  
_"Just go and see the bloody doctor," he snapped, crossing his arms against his chest. "They'll either tell you that you're fine or you're dying! Just do it!"_  
_"And I already told you, I'm fine! I don't need a Doctor to tell me that!" She told him stubbornly._  
_"And what if you're not?" He demanded. "What if you're not fine? What if you are sick?"_  
_"Then they'll just throw some pills at me and tell me to get out," she replied._  
_He gritted his teeth as he stared at her, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Can't you just do what you're told for once?"_  
_"I don't want to go to the Doctors!"_  
_"Azelmas worried about you!" He told her. "She came and found me. Me. She told me what's been going on! Look at yourself!"_  
_She looked down quietly. "I'm fine…."_  
_"No you're not," he snapped again. "You're going tomorrow."_  
_"Parnasse-"_  
_"No, I don't want to hear it!" He told her. _  
_"I can't."_  
_"Yes, you can! It's easy! Just go there and tell them your name, sit down and wait until they call you!"_  
_She scuffed her foot against the floor as she frowned. "Fine..."_

* * *

Combeferre quickly dropped the file back on the desk as he noticed Eponine stiring in her bed. Her recovery had been rocky at first but for the past few weeks she had been doing well. The surgery had been a success and once her body had found it's strength and she had gotten over the initial fever that she had gained after the surgery, she had bounced back, even if she was still tired.  
He picked up another file, occasionally glancing up at her as she slowly began to wake. The third time he glanced up over the file, his eyes locked on her sleepy ones that gazed in his direction. Giving her a small smile, he slowly lowered the file and placed it down before standing and heading towards her.  
"How are you feeling?" He asked her as he picked up her chart and glanced over it. It wasn't that he didn't know the chart off by heart by this point, but there was something about her eyes when she was still half asleep that was alluring. She was a patient. She was his patient. When she didn't reply, he glanced up at her, smiling faintly as he realised her eyes had closed again and her breathing had softened. He would just have to wait until later to tell her the good news.


	4. Chapter 4

In the days that followed Eponines health seemed to improve drastically and it wasn't long before she was sat up in bed, impatiently glaring at the doctor as she waited to be told she could finally leave. She watched him like a hawk every time he past the end of the room, heading down the corridor with the clipboard in his arm and stethoscope around his neck.

Her gaze made the hairs raise on the back of his neck, just knowing that she was watching him put him on edge for reasons he couldn't explain. She had some kind of hold on him that he just couldn't put his finger on and although he'd been given the news almost a week before that she was recovering and that she could soon go home, he was yet to actually allow her to leave the hospital. He'd put in requests for more tests, put her on bed rest and checked on her almost hourly. He had to make sure that her health was good enough to allow her to actually return home, so that she wouldn't return here for yet another visit. Perhaps her cancer would finally go and she would be fine, he could only hope so, anyway.

When visiting time was drawing to an end, and she still hadn't had a single visitor, Combeferre finally made his way towards the bed with a heavy heart. It would be sad to see the young woman finally leave the hospital, he knew he should be happy for her. Happy that the treatment had worked, that she could return to her friends and family, that should could enjoy her life once more but he would miss her wit and her charm, the way she glared at him for doing the simplest procedures and how stubborn she was.

She simply stared at him as he approached, her brown eyes never leaving his as he sat down in the chair beside her with a forced smile. Her quizzical look began to fade, replaced by a look of concern. "Is it back?" She asked him, her voice low as she stared at him. "Is it another tumour?"

He forced his smile to grow as he shook his head and reached for her hand, noting it's roughness in his as he gave hers a reassuring squeeze. "No, you can go home. All of the tests have come back clear, you can leave in the morning. Is there someone you wish for me to ring for you? Someone to come pick you up?"

She laid back against the pillow as she grinned, staring up at the ceiling. "No, I'll be fine on my own. I'll grab a taxi or something," she told him.

He stood up, letting go of her hand and placing it gently on the bed as he watched her for a moment. He couldn't help but genuinely smile at the look of glee on her face. For the first time since he had arrived there, he hadn't seen her smile like this. Her usual look of annoyance and frustration had finally gone and it made her look so much younger. "Get some rest," he instructed her. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Wait," she breathed as she pushed herself up to look at him. "Thank you."

He blushed as he ran his fingers through his hair, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm just doing my job…"

"You're not like the other Doctors," she told him. "I like you. I'm going to miss you."

His blushed deepened as he looked around for anything to distract him. Hoping for a sick patient to look his way, or a worried parent to wave him over but for once, there was nothing. There was no distraction to drag him away from Eponine like there was usually. "I… I'll miss you, too," he told her honestly. "It has been a pleasure to treat you."

She scoffed. "I bet you say that to everyone."

"Only the ones I like," he joked. "Now, sleep Eponine."

"Night Doc," she smiled as she laid back against the bed before turning onto her side and closing her eyes even though she knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.

* * *

Combeferre sat in silence at the nurses station, tapping the pen against the edge of the desk quietly as he glanced around the ward. Around him his patients were sleeping, he'd sent the nurse on a break a few minutes before with the request that she brought him back some chocolate, at least.

His eyes fell on the brunette curled up at the top of her bed with her eyes firmly shut. The moon light broke through the gap in the blinds, illuminating the side of her face as she laid facing him. Her chest rose and fell steadily as her hand clutched at the top of the blanket, pulling it up to her chin.

He could have sat there all night watching her, resisting the urge to go over and push the few stay locks of hair from her face. He stood up quietly, approaching her with light footsteps until he stood at the end of the room that her bed was located in. There was only one other patient in this section, a young girl that seemed to have the ability to sleep through anything, unlike Combeferre. No, Combeferre was a light sleeper and sometime he wished he wasn't. Enjolras was forever up during the night, slamming down books and pens when his inspiration struck him.

He was so lost in his thoughts of his roommate that he didn't notice the girls eyes open until she cleared her throat. He jumped backwards, crashing into the bed behind him as he spotted the two large black eyes peering at him through the darkness, soon followed by a toothy grin aimed in his direction.

He quickly straightened himself up, patting the bad to make sure he hasn't caused any damage before he turned to face her once he was certain his face was no longer red. Still flustered he took a step towards her, ready to come up with some excuse about why he was stood there but before he could, she spoke.

"It's rude to watch people sleeping," she told him, her voice low in the silence of the ward.

"I was just… uh…" He glanced at the various wires and tubes still connected to her and motioned towards them with his hand. "Just checking."

She smirked as she glanced up at the machines before letting her eyes fall back on his. "And am I still alive?"

"Just," he smirked faintly as he took a seat beside her bed. His eyes met hers, their faces barely inches apart before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

"It's going to be weird leaving this place. I've sort of got used to being surrounded by sick kids, you know?"

He frowned slightly. "Well… I'm sure you'll get used to being back home. Do you live alone?"

"Sometimes…. I mean, I do but I crash at my friends a lot… He lets me stay over," she told him.

"Oh… _Oh,_" his eyes widened before he frowned. How could he have been so stupid, of course she must have had a boyfriend waiting for her somewhere outside the hospital. It was hard to imagine that there was anyone that couldn't be taken in by her charm. Besides, it wasn't like she was ever going to look at him in that way, he was her Doctor. It would have been inappropriate for them to date… _Wait_, he didn't like her. No, he was just concerned about her health and where she was going to go once she left here. He needed to know there was someone that could look after her for the first few days until she was back on her feet. He didn't have any kind of feelings for her, it was just the usual doctor-patient relationship, that was all. Or so he told himself…

"You okay there Doc?" She asked after a few minutes. She frowned as she propped herself up on her elbow and waved her hand in front of his eyes. "Hey, Doc?"

He shook his head suddenly, looking back at her as he tried to ignore his sudden realisation. "Just… zoned out a little, it's been a long day."

"Will you be here in the morning?" She frowned. "You know, when I leave? I want to say goodbye…"

He hesitated as he glanced at the clock that hung on the wall above the nurses station. "My shift finishes at nine… but I can hang around if you want me to."

She forced a small smile as she leaned back against the pillow. "You don't have to do that…"

"No," he told her sternly. "No, I'd like to be here to say goodbye. I want to make sure you get to your taxi alright. We don't want you stuck here for an extra week, do we?"

"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad," she shrugged her shoulders lightly. "You know, it could be kind of nice being stuck here for a bit. I like the company… but don't tell any of them that. They'll come and try talking again."

"It doesn't hurt to make friends," he told her gently.

She shook her head as she stared at the Doctor before glancing over at the other girl that occupied the room. "No, not in this place. What's the point in making friends if they're going to die? You're just setting yourself up to get hurt."

"Not every patient dies, Eponine," he told her. Her response had caught him off guard. Of course he knew that a majority of these patients wouldn't make it more than a matter of years, but that didn't mean they couldn't live ordinary lives during their short time. It didn't mean that they didn't deserve friendship as much as a healthy child. "It doesn't mean you can't make memories with the other patients. They might go away sooner than they should, but it doesn't mean they aren't still with you."

"What do you know of death?" She asked him coldly as she turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.

He frowned as he watched her. "I know plenty about death."

"You know what you've studied. You know medical shit and that's it. You've watched patients die but you don't know them. You don't know who they are, you don't know what it's like to be left behind. You don't know what it's like to watch someone you care about die."

"My Father died when I was eight years old," he told her quietly. "It wasn't cancer, sometimes I wish it was. He died of a heart attack, it was very sudden. Sometimes I wished that it was something that would have drawn out so we had the chance to say goodbye. At least we would have known we were losing him and we could have said goodbye."

"Shit…" she whispered as she glanced at him. "Sorry, I didn't know…"

"How were you supposed to know?" He asked her with a small smile. "That was a long time ago."

"I didn't mean what I said before, you know?"

"I shouldn't have been so pushy," he told her. "Really, it was kind of my own fault."

"It's hard making friends when you know you could die really soon… or they could. You get attached, you have to watch them get upset over it and you know there's nothing you can do. It really sucks," she sighed. "My bodies just… betraying me. It's meant to be keeping me alive and it doesn't want to."

"You're not terminal. You could live a long and healthy life," Combeferre reminded her as he glanced down at the bed. Of course there was a chance that it could the opposite way, but it didn't mean he couldn't hope for the best for her. It didn't mean she had to live as if her last day was soon.

"I could die. I could get a tumour that you couldn't get rid of and I could die… I just have this feeling, you know? That it's not going to be simple. You're not just going to be able to cut out the cancer and get rid of it. My life has never been simple, so why would it be any different this time?"

"Because this time, I'm your Doctor," he told her as he stood up. "Now, get some sleep. You'll be leaving in a few hours."

She chewed her lip as she watched him head back towards the nurses station before she finally spoke again. "Maybe I could come visit you some time…"

He glanced back at her, giving her one last smile. "Sleep," he ordered.

* * *

Morning came sooner than he wanted and his sleep was rudely cut short as his phone rang out, breaking the silence of the staff room. He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he glanced at the sun that was steadily rising into the sky. He didn't have long before Eponines taxi would arrive and she'd be leaving the hospital. He quickly got changed, throwing on the faded hary potter tshirt that he'd arrived to work in the day before and quickly pulled his jacket on over the top.

With his satchel swung over his shoulder and two cups of coffee in his hands, he arrived at the nurses station just in time to see Eponine scowling in his direction. He smiled warmly at her in return as he held out one of the drinks to her. "Morning."

"You're late," she scolded him as she took the coffee from him and carefully balanced it between her legs as she turned the wheelchair around, bumping the desk in the process and set off down the corridor.

He stared after her in surprise before he finally remembered how to move his feet and with a few long strides he'd caught up with her. They made their way to the elevator in silence, Combeferre concentrating on the hot coffee warming his hands which would hopefully give him the energy to make it back home. He hummed quietly to himself as he glanced up at the small screen above the door, watching as the numbers slowly escalated as they waited.

He pulled his eyes away from the numbers briefly, glancing down at Eponine who had remained suspiciously quite only to find her smirking up at him. "What?" He blushed.

"I don't know… I never had you pinned as a hufflepuff," she told him casually as she leaned back in her seat, raising the cup to her lips.

"Then what did you have me pinned as?" He frowned.

She tilted her head to the side, looking him up and down. He shivered under her gaze as he awkwardly stepped from one foot onto the other. "Ravenclaw," she stated.

"Maybe I'm a Ravenpuff… or is it a Huffleclaw?" He grinned as the doors finally slid open. He motioned for her to go first before he followed her inside and hit the ground floor button before leaning against the wall.

Once the lift began to move she scowled up at him. "There is no such thing as a Ravenpuff or a Huffleclaw. Either you're a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff. You can't be both! None of the actual students were in more than one house, they were in one or the other. If she wanted there to be some kind of house cross over hybrids, then she would have put them in the book! You're one or the other!"

He grinned as he leaned in closer to her, lowering her voice. "You do know there is no such thing as Magic either, don't you? Or Hogwarts?"

She gasped, her eyes going wide as she crossed her arms against her chest, leaving her coffee forgotten between her legs. "Take that back! That's what they want you to think!"

"Who?" He laughed.

"The Ministry! Magic is real and so it Hogwarts, and Dumbledore and Harry Potter!" She told him stubbornly. She stared at him, challenging him to argue with her.

Combeferre watched her a bemused smile, he'd wouldn't have expected her to have liked Harry Potter. She didn't look like the sort of person that was even into reading, or films for that matter but apparently she'd proven him wrong. Part of him wished he'd known this sooner. He'd wished he could have fetched her one of the books to help her pass the time in here, or at least sat and talked to her about her views on the series, although apparently they were slightly… odd. He had so many theories that he wanted to discuss. He'd already hashed them out time and time again with Courfeyrac and Bahorel it would have been nice to here someone else's option on them.

The doors opened as she continued her rant, two Doctors joining them and glancing warily at the girl in the wheelchair as she continued her passionate speech. Combeferre smiled politely at the Doctors before he nodded his head along with her. "Maybe you're right," he interrupted her.

She frowned, staring up at her. "You think that the Thestrals were portrayed wrong as well?"

"No," he smiled, shaking his head. "I think maybe I am a Ravenclaw."

She looked at him perplexed for a moment before she broke out into a grin. "I'm always right."

He chuckled as the doors slid open once more as they finally reached the ground floor. He took hold of the wheelchair, pushing her out into the corridor. "I'll remember that for next time."

"Next time?" She asked, tilting her head back to look up at him. "What, you going to do home visits now?"

He blushed, staring straight ahead to avoid her intense stare. "No.. I uh, I just meant…"

"It's kind of cute when you blush, Doc," she smirked up at him, making his blush deepen.

"That's… that's inappropriate, Miss Thenardier."

"Aw, don't get all formal on me," she pouted.

He glanced down at her, his brow furrowing as he forced himself to look away from her lips. "You're my patient."

"Not for much longer," she reasoned.

"It's still not allowed. If anything were to happen between us I could lose my job," he sighed.

She paused, frowning slightly as she sat up straight. She stared ahead of them as well, clutching at the coffee cup. "Who said anything was going to happen?"

"I just… You know what I mean! I just don't want people getting the wrong idea…" He sighed.

"It's cute when you get flustered as well," she whispered with a small smile.

He rolled his eyes as he pushed her outside, glancing along the street frustrated. "Your taxi is meant to be waiting. I don't see it."

"It's probably stuck in traffic," she reasoned calmly.

He scowled as he stepped away from the wheelchair and pulled out his phone. He paced along the footpath a few steps away from her, tapping in the phone number for the taxi. He was just about to hit dial when a car pulled up in front of Eponine and he stopped, frowning slightly as he glanced at her.

The driver walked around the car and opened the door for her as she shakily stood up and moved into the seat. He joined them just as the door shut and quickly helped fold down the wheelchair and place it in the boot of the car.

"Thank you," he smiled at the taxi driver as he took a step back, watching as he returned back to the driver seat before he frowned. "Wait!"

The taxi driver scowled, glancing at him impatiently. "Forget something?"

He yanked the door open, taking Eponine by surprise as he stared at her. She raised her eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. "What, got more tests to run?"

"I…" He paused, scratching at the back of his neck. What could he do? He couldn't give her his number, he couldn't tell her he'd grown to feel… attached to her… there was nothing he could do that wouldn't risk him losing his job, his job that he'd worked hard to get… his job that he couldn't just throw away for some girl. "Just… stay healthy, okay? If you feel sick I want you to come straight back here."

She forced a small smile, trying to hide the disappointment behind it as she nodded her head. "Thank you. For everything," she told him. "I'll try not to come back. No offence, your bedside manner was great and all but I don't really like hospitals."

The driver cleared his throat as he tapped the meter. "This chit chats costing you."

Combeferre blushed as he stepped back, going to shut the door. "Right, sorry… I guess, well… this is probably goodbye."

Eponine nodded her head with a small smile. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," he told her, closing the door softly as he stepped back. He watched as the car drove away, waiting until it turned a corner and he could no longer see it. For a moment he could have sworn he saw Eponine turn to look back at him but he couldn't have been sure. With a small sigh he reluctantly turned away from the road and set off back through the hospital grounds, heading back towards his apartment where he would hopefully manage to get some actual sleep. He hadn't expected Eponines departure to make him feel so… low but it had, it had completely drained him and now all he wanted to do was climb in bed and block out the world for the rest of the day.


	5. Chapter 5

A month had passed since Combeferre had seen Eponine for the last time. At first, his thoughts had been plagued with thoughts of her but slowly they had left him until he only thought about her once in a blue moon. Occasionally he would see something that would make him think of her, but his thoughts were now concentrated on Enjolras' cause, on the protests that he was organising, his work and of course, his friends.

Most of his patients had left the ward, he had two more deaths during the month but other than that, most of them left healthier than they had arrived there, even if it was only a slight improvement. His hours were less now as the ward grew quieter and he spent more time at home, reading over Enjolras' essays.

Tonight, he was sat in the Café Musain, surrounded by his friends as they sat talking. On the table in front of him sat various papers, each scattered across the surface and covered in various scribbled notes, each in a different handwriting as the Amis added their own thoughts to the paper.

Combeferre frowned as he picked up the sheet that he was reading, squinting as he tried to decipher the scribble. "Bahorel," he called with a sigh. "I don't think strippers will help our cause… or improve Enjolras' speech…"

Laughter filled the room as Bahorel stood up, taking a bow for his friends. Enjolras scowled impatiently from his seat on the table beside Combeferre. "We need to take this seriously. We only have a month until our protest and we are behind schedule! This is a cause that affects many people and together we can make a difference!"

The room fell silent as they stared up at the man speaking them, slowly a murmur filled the room as they all returned to the tasks they had been assigned. Combeferre glanced at Enjolras, giving him a small smile and a nod as he returned to his seat and returned to his attention to the map in front of him.

The meeting continued for near an hour before Enjolras finally stepped down from the table after finishing a long and powerful speech, and began barking out orders instead. At some point during the evening silence had fallen amongst the group of friends. One by one, they each stood and went off to their designated jobs. In the corner Jehan sat with a pile of paper, pens, paint, ink… posters scattered out on the floor around him in various states of drying. Bahorel and Feuilly were making a list of contacts and were already busy on their phones. Courfeyrac had pulled up a chair on the table next to Combeferres and was marking out a map whilst Enjolras stood off in the corner speaking to Marius in a hushed voice. Around them, their other friends had spread out, taking themselves to whichever station they fitted best at whilst the chatter of the bar on the other side of the wall continued.

Ferre looked up briefly as the door opened and Grantaire entered, unbuttoning his coat as he made his way towards Jehan with a bottle of wine in his hand. Enjolras scowled as he glanced up from his conversation, shaking his head in the direction of the obviously tipsy man before stepping away Marius.

"Grantaire," he barked as he stepped in front of the man, blocking his path before he could reach the table. "You're late. Where have you been? You've missed most of the meeting, I don't see why you even bothered turning up."

Grantaire laughed as he uncorked the bottle and pressed it to his lips, taking a deliberate swig from the bottle as his brown eyes locked with the blue of the leaders. "Been looking after a friend."

"I'm sure your friend is capable of looking after themselves," Enjolras snapped, his eyes dropping to the bottle with a look of disgust. "How can you look after another person when you're so obviously drunk?"

The artist scowled as he placed his bottle down on the table, the force of it ringing out as he took an unsteady step forward and pressed his hand against the blondes chest. He gave him a push, stumbling forward slightly as he did so. "You don't know her. You don't know me. Maybe we like getting drunk. Maybe we really fucking like it."

Enjolras stared back at him blankly, brushing his hand away. "I don't want you at my meetings drunk. It gets nothing done and frankly, it distracts everyone else."

Courfeyrac glanced up from his map, exchanging glances with Combeferre before he got to his feet and hesitantly stepped towards them. He cleared his throat as he placed his hand on Enjolras' arm. "Just leave it Enj, let him just make the posters."

"No," Enjolras scowled as he pulled his arm away from his friends grip. "No, I don't want him here, not unless he's going to sober up."

Courfeyrac sighed as he turned his attention to Grantaire, combing his fingers through his inky curls. "R, will you sober up so you can stay?"

"Why should I have to do anything he wants me to do?" Grantaire slurred. "He doesn't know me."

"You've said that already," Courfeyrac pointed out. "And because… well, technically it _is_ his meeting… Just sit down, I'll go fetch you some water."

"I really need your help on some of these posters. They need your artwork on them, my words work but… they're a bit plain without some paintings on them," Jehan chimed in as he looked up from the poster he was currently making.

Grantaire grinned smugly at Enjolras as he paused to grab his wine bottle, before forcing his way past the two men in front of him and falling into the seat beside the poet. Enjolras sighed as he glanced at Grantaire before turning his attention back to Courfeyrac. "He has an hour to get sober, otherwise I'm kicking him out."

Courfeyrac forced a small smile. "Don't worry, I'll sort it. I'll make sure he doesn't drink anything else all night."

"Are you sure you can manage that?" Enjolras sighed.

He nodded his head slowly. "Of course. You have my word."

* * *

Between them they only had one key, which they kept hidden in the plant pot outside the apartment. Being on the third floor of course the plant pot sat in the middle of the corridor looked peculiar, but even if anyone ever did work out the whereabouts of the key and let themselves in, there was very little that they would want to take.

Neither of the two roommates had a job, they lived solely on the money that Grantaire made from the paintings that he sold, and the occasional bit of money that Eponine _found_. He didn't know much about her background, she didn't talk about her family or her friends. She kept to herself and spent most of her time either in bed or getting drunk. He knew she was sick, she'd been sick since he had met her but she never let him come with her to her hospital appointments or to worry about her when she got really ill. She'd just spent a few months in hospital and he'd barely heard from her, apart from the occasional text until she returned again. It wasn't unusual for either of them to disappear for random amounts of times. Sometimes hours, often days or sometimes even weeks but they always came back alive, although most of the time that seemed to be a miracle.

Unfortunately, the lack of money that they had between them mean that the apartment was lacking both heat and electric, luckily for now the water was still running but the fridge was empty and it meant that Eponine was currently laid under a pile of blankets on the sofa with only the flicking light from a single candle that had almost reached the end of its life.

She sighed as she glanced up at the clock, watching as it ticked past two in the morning and Grantaire still wasn't home. She stood up, picking the pile of blankets up with her and blew out the candle before feeling her way into the single bedroom. She dumped the blankets back on the bed before climbing under them again, not bothering to take her clothes off and find her pyjamas. It was the middle of winter and it was freezing without any heating.

She closed her eyes as she hugged the blankets tightly around herself, trying to distract herself enough to slip into sleep until the morning. She should have gone out, she should have gone drinking or crashed on someone elses sofa, not that she knew anyone else that she could go to. She wasn't like Grantaire who had a bunch of friends she could spend every night with. He'd offered to introduce her to them, and on occasions she'd met the infamous Courfeyrac when he'd helped Grantaire home when he'd had a few too many to drink. In fact, it had been Courfeyrac that had introduced the two of them in the first place.

She'd been sat in some bar after being kicked out by her parents. All she had was a bag of clothes and no where to go. Courfeyrac worked behind the bar and had spent most of the evening trying to unsuccessfully chat her up and get her number when Grantaire had stumbled in. He'd obviously been drinking most the evening like she had and he'd fallen into the seat beside her before demanding a bottle of wine off of Courfeyrac. At first she thought he was going to get himself kicked out, or start a fight until Courfeyrac pulled a bottle out that he'd hidden away for him and he'd continued to drink.

She stayed there until closing time, watching the man beside her continue to drink and get drunker, which she hadn't believed could be possible when he'd first appeared but apparently it was and he was impressive at it. By the time they were leaving and Courfeyrac had closed up the bar, Grantare had managed to finish three bottles whilst she'd simply drank two glasses of whiskey. She'd felt bad for Courfeyrac and offered to walk Grantaire home with him and once they'd navigated the streets, managing to keep the man between them from falling down, and half carried half dragged him up four flights of stairs until they reached the dingy apartment, she had tried to make an excuse and leave so she could find an alleyway that would be at least dry for the night, and if she was lucky she wouldn't have to share it with a stranger or get woken up by some drunken guy in the middle of the night that couldn't hold his stomach contents but Courfeyrac refused to let her walk home alone at midnight.

She'd tried to think of where she could possibly go. She could have gone home, taking him with her and then going off to find her own place to sleep when he was finally gone, but that was risky. The chances of her parents gang hanging around outside were pretty high and she didn't want to drag him all that was for nothing. She could take him to a random place and say it was where she lived, but if he waited for her to unlock the door… well, that wouldn't happen… so finally she had admitted to the two men that she didn't technically have anywhere to go. Grantaire had offered her a place to sleep on his sofa and she'd reluctantly agreed to take it after Courfeyrac explained he was currently living with his sister and she wouldn't appreciate another random squatter and from there… she just never moved out and that was how she ended up living with Grantaire.

She was almost asleep when she heard the key in the lock, followed by a string of various curse words. She smiled faintly to herself as she waited. If it had been summer, or at least somewhat warmer, she would have gotten out of bed to greet him but her feet were warm beneath the blankets and she knew the cold wooden floor wouldn't be.

She closed her eyes again as she continued to wait. She listened as he made his way around the apartment, disappearing into the bathroom for a few minutes before he came out again. The taps in the kitchen ran before stopping and there was a clatter of plates followed more swearing. Finally, after almost half an hour, she heard the shuffle of socks against the floor before the bed dipped beside her and the blankets were pulled back before being replaced again.

She rolled over sleepily to look at her roommate, smiling faintly before she curled up against him to steal his body heat. "We really need to get jobs," Grantaire mumbled into her hair as he held her closer. "We can't keep doing this."

"Sharing the bed or being cold?" She asked, resting her cheek against his bare chest.

He smiled down at her as he pressed a kiss into her hair. "Being cold. I don't mind sharing the bed so much."

"Until you bring home your blonde guy," she joked. "Then I doubt you'll want to share your bed and I'll be back on the sofa."

Grantaire laughed as he shook his head. "Nah, we'd go back to his. I bet his has plenty of heating."

Eponine leaned back so he could see her pout. "So you'd just leave me here whilst you swan off and be all warm?"

"And you wouldn't abandon me for heating and electric?" He challenged before laughing again. He untangled himself from her as he sat up, feeling around on the floor. Finally, he plucked a cigarette off the floor and placed it between his lips before lighting it. He lazily ran his fingers through her hair, trying to untangle her curls. "How are you feeling?"

"I told you, I'm fine," she sighed as she moved her head into his lap. "I was only sick for a little bit. I didn't even really need to be in there."

"You said it was just a check up, right?" He asked her again. Ever since she'd come back he had a feeling something hadn't been right. She'd told him time and time again that she'd just gone in for a check up. That they'd made a mistake and kept her in. They were going to send her for surgery before they realised their mistake, that's why they'd shaved a patch of her hair off. It was nothing serious and she wouldn't have to go back for a while. She was perfectly healthy. But he knew, he just _knew_ there was something that she was keeping from him and even though it was none of his business, he needed to know what it was. He needed to know that she was going to be okay because even though he'd only know her for just under a year, he cared about her a lot. She'd grown on him. She'd become his best friend, the sister he never had.

He scowled as a hand reached through the dark and plucked the cigarette from his lips but he didn't complain as he waited, listening as she exhaled smoke before finding his lips with it again. He placed his fingers beside hers, not letting the cigarette fall as he continued to smoke in silence.

It didn't take long for Eponine to fall asleep and once he'd finished smoking, he carefully took hold of her head and moved it from his lap as he laid back down beside her and let her sleep against his chest. He hummed softly, running his fingers through her hair as he stared through the darkness, waiting for sleep to claim him as well.

When he finally woke, she was gone. It was late morning and the apartment was silent. Outside it was dreary and foggy, with no sign of sunshine breaking through and warming the apartment at all, he reluctantly climbed off the mattress on the floor and grabbed a jumper off of the back of a chair, yanking it on along with his boxers and made his way into the kitchen.

He sighed as he began yanking open the cupboards, blinking unenthusiastically at the emptiness behind each door. He pulled a face as he picked up a bag containing a few slices of bread, and carefully examined the furry blue spots. As hungry as he was, he really didn't feel hungry enough to eat that. He quickly dumped the few pieces in the bin, deciding not to leave it where Eponine might find it and decide to eat it either. The last thing they needed was to get sick off of furry mouldy bread.

He pulled out his phone, chewing his lip as he scrolled through his contracts until he finally reached Bahorel. He was probably spending his day with Feuilly but they were always good for spotting him a bit of money when he was starving. They'd both been through similar situations where they had no money, or heating, and they knew exactly what it was like.

He quickly sent them a text as he headed back into the bedroom, finding a pair of jeans that had a limited amount of paint blotches on, before heading out of the door and down the street.

Grantaire knew exactly where the two men would be before they even replied to his text, and he didn't bother checking when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he headed straight for the gym. It was only a couple of blocks away, a few minutes walk with his brisk pace and when he got there, they were already waiting outside, leaning against the wall as they waited.

He wasn't sure whether Bahorel was only in a vest top to show off his colourful display of tattoos, or whether it was because the mass of muscle that covered the boxers body kept him warm at all times, but even in his jumper Grantaire was freezing and was already regretting not checking to see whether Eponine had stolen his winter jacket for the day. Beside the boxer, the red head was wrapped from head to toe. His nose peaked out over the top of the scarf and he looked ready to take on even the Antarctic. Between the three of them, it looked as if they had each come prepared for a different season.

"Where are we eating?" Bahorel asked as he pushed himself off the wall, not bothering to wait for either men as they set off down the road.

"We could just go to Courfeyracs work, he'd give us discount," Feuilly piped up as he fell into step with Grantaire just behind the other man.

Grantaire frowned, shaking his head. "That's too far and I'm fucking freezing."

"I feel fine," Bahorel laughed as he looked over his shoulder. "But your nose does look a little red, R. Want to borrow my beanie?"

"How is a hat going to keep me warm?" Grantaire groaned as he shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"You lose heat through your head," Feuilly told him cheerfully. "That's where all my hair comes in handy."

"I'm telling you, you have too much. It's taking up potential brain cell room," Bahorel replied with a smirk. "But that doesn't help. Where are we going for food?"

"We could just go to the Musain," Grantaire replied after a few minutes of silence as each of the men debated potential places to eat. No matter how much they debated, or how many suggestions they had, ninety percent of the time, the group would always end up at the Musain.

It wasn't far, it was just around the corner from where they were but Grantaire couldn't be gladder to get inside. It was warm and there was heating, the seats were comfortable and the food was… reasonable. It wasn't the best, but it was a good price and they seemed to get discount anyway for spending so much money there.

They found a table just off to the side of the main room and the three men quickly took their seats and grabbed the menus, setting them out on the table in front of them as they carried on their conversation from outside.

Grantaire was listening vaguely, his eyes darting around the room as he checked to see if any of their other friends were there when his eyes finally fell on the mop of blonde hair at the bar. He swallowed hard as he watched the man turn to the stranger beside him, his lips were set in a firm line as he nodded along to whatever was being said. He looked so casual, leaning against the bar with one arm whilst his eyes burrowed into those of the man he was with. Slowly, he picked up his glass and took a drink of the beer, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed and Grantaire was mesmerised, he couldn't take his eyes off of him as he played with his menu, folding and unfolding it.

He'd lost track of the conversation going on around him when he pushed his chair back abruptly and stood up. Bahorel and Feuilly both stopped with a frown and looked up at him. "Are you okay?" The boxer asked curiously, tilting his head slightly to the side.

He nodded as his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Just going to get a drink," he replied, before turning away from his friends and heading towards the bar. He pushed his way through the crowd, heading in the vague direction that he knew Enjolras was stood. He passed the man the blonde had been talking to on his way and he quickly moved faster, knowing that his Apollo would probably be stood alone and of course, he was.

He cleared his throat as he reached him, drawing his attention. "Sorry, just trying to get to the bar."

"Of course you are," the blonde sighed as he finished his drink and stepped away from the bar, leaving access for the other man.

"Do you want another drink?" Grantaire asked hopefully as he placed his hand on the work top, claiming his space between the two men on either side of him.

"Unlike you, I do not need to drink excessively to enjoy myself," Enjolras replied sharply.

Grantaire frowned as he stared at Enjolras, his nails tapping against the bar frustratedly. "What's that supposed to mean?" He demanded.

"Don't you have something better to do than standing here drinking all day?" Enjolras asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't you have a job or a hobby or something you could be doing?"

"No… I mean, I paint but I'm not drinking-"

"Save it," Enjolras cut him off. "I don't have the time to stand here listening to a drunk. I have important meetings to arrange and I don't have time to waste on you."

Grantaire flinched, clutching the money in his pocket tightly as he looked down. Perhaps Enjolras was right, he was an alcoholic and the little money he had, he wasted here… He shook his head quickly, straightening up as he opened his mouth to reply. No one got to speak to him that way. Not his friends, not his family, not even Enjolras. Yes, he would happily follow Enjolras to the end of the world, he'd do anything that he asked like any of his friends would, but it didn't give him the right to speak to him like that. But, when he did look back up the blonde was gone and the barmaid was staring at him impatiently.

After ordering his drinks he returned to the table carrying three beers and he quickly placed them down in front of them. Feuilly frowned slightly, scratching at the back of his neck. "Was that Enjolras at the bar?"

"No, I mean… Yeah, but he had stuff to do. Said he was busy," Grantaire replied quickly as he picked up his glass and quickly drained half of the liquid.

"Right…" Feuilly nodded, exchanging a quick glanced with Bahorel before returning his attention to the menu.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Grantaire arrived home that night, Eponine had managed to clean the entire flat from head to toe. Every plate had been washed and set out to dry, every bowl and glass along with them. His artwork had been carefully put away in the order than she knew he liked and there was even a load of washing in the machine and food set out ready on the table.

He raised his eyebrow at her as he tilted his head to the side, and curiously looked at the take away on the table. He was certain they didn't have enough money for the feast in front of them, but it would be enough food for the next few days and take away always tasted better as left overs anyway.

He slowly took his seat at the table, watching as she hummed to herself and quickly grabbed two wine glasses off of the counter and began filling them with cheap wine. She picked them up and set one down in front of him, the red liquid almost sloshing over the side of the glass before she sat down opposite him and took a sip of her own. "Have a good day?"

He frowned before shrugging his shoulders, picking up the chopsticks off the table. "It was okay, I guess. I met up with Bahorel and Feuilly."

She looked up with a mouth full of rice. "And?"

"And we went for something to eat and went to do a bit of boxing," he told her as he stared down at his bowl, mixing the rice with his chop sticks.

She frowned as she grabbed the bowl of sauce and added some to her bowl as she watched him carefully. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he sighed, dropping his chopsticks. "I'm just… not hungry. Okay?"

"R," she sighed as she reached across the table and placed her hand over the top of his.

"Just leave it," he told her with a scowl as he yanked back his hand and shook his head. He grabbed the bowl from her other hand, pouring some onto his rice before he slammed it down and grabbed the chopsticks again. He stared down at his bowl as he forced himself to take a mouthful of food before going back to stirring it again.

She frowned as she stared at him, slowly taking another mouthful of food. "I rented a film," she told him. "I got pitch perfect, I know you like that one…"

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "How did you even get the money for this, Ponine?"

She hesitated before shrugging her shoulders. "I found some money on the street… Someone dropped it, they didn't even notice-"

"Bullshit," he snapped, looking up at her. "How did you _really_ get it?"

She scowled as she put her chopsticks down. "Why does that matter? We deserve nice stuff! It's not our fault the world is screwing us over-"

"The world isn't screwing us over," he interrupted her. "We're screwing ourselves over. We can't expect everything to be handed to us on a plate! You need to get a job and so do I."

"You have your art," she pointed out. "That gets us by!"

"No one buys my damn art," he snapped back at her.

"But someone will, we just have to find the right person and then it'll sell for loads and we'll be rich and we can get a nice apartment and pay back everyone that we owe!"

"It doesn't work like that," he told her coldly. "You're stealing from people so that we can stay here and I'm painting shit that no one will ever buy. This isn't right! We _need_ jobs!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I was sick! I couldn't get a job and I probably still can't! I still have to go to all of these stupid doctor appointments-"

"Which we can't afford either," he reminded her.

"They'll say I was underprivileged or something. They'll say I lived in poverty and give it us free, I don't know. It'll work out Grantaire, it always does!"

He stood up from the table, pushing his chair back. "We can't keep living like this! We're getting jobs Ponine and if you don't then you can just… just move out!"

He watched in silence as she stared up at him, first annoyance flashed across her face before being replaced by a look of hurt and then rage. She stood up quickly, the chair scraping across the kitchen floor before she stormed towards the door. He followed her helplessly, running his fingers through his hair. "Eponine, wait-"He called after her but before he could finish the door slammed in his face.

He sighed as he leaned back against it and closed his eyes. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," he murmured.

* * *

She wrapped her arms around herself as she hurried down the dark street, holding her jacket tightly as she shivered. She was too stubborn to go marching back to grab a coat, and she knew if she went back there Grantaire would be able to talk her around.

She was hurt by what he had said. The flat with Grantaire was the only place she had ever felt like she belonged. It was the only place that felt remotely like home and no one could take that away from her, except him and he knew that.

She had finally found someone that understood her, someone that was just as fucked up as she was and who didn't push her or question her about anything at all. He demand to know her demons and he held her when she screamed at night and woke up in a cold sweat.

But now all of that was going to change. If she didn't get a job she'd be back out on the street again and she'd have to find somewhere else to live and she couldn't do that right now.

She stopped as she reached the bridge, leaning against the side as she stared down at the water. She sighed, chewing her lip as she rested her chin on her hands. She stayed silent as a group of students walked past her, deep in conversation. The bars were closing and everyone was starting to go home, except for her. No, Eponine had no plans to go home tonight.

She stood there long into the night, staring at the water in complete silence until almost half an hour had passed since anyone had walked passed her. Her phone buzzed in her pocket but she ignored it, knowing it was likely to be Grantaire ringing to see where she was and when she was coming back but she didn't care. Not tonight.

She stuffed her hands back in her pockets as she set off walking again, making her way across the park and deeper into the city. She'd slept rough plenty of times before and if she really needed to, she could do so tonight, not that she was tired.

She found a bench on the far side of the park, overlooking a few of the bars and she settled into for the night. The looked up at the old buildings in front of her. Most of them were much older than the rest on the street. They were made up of stone fronts with signs swinging from the sides of the buildings and right now, most of them were in darkness. All except one.

Upstairs the lights were still on and she could make out various silhouettes moving around the room. She frowned slightly as she watched, tilting her head to the side curiously. Maybe it was just staff closing up for the night, but downstairs was already in darkness and it looked as if the doors were already locked.

She pulled her knees up to her chest as she continued to watch for anyone leaving the building. She vaguely recognised the name of the bar, it was one of the ones that Grantaire often went to when he was out for a night. The paint was peeling off the old wooden sign which creaked on it's hinges, spelling out 'The Musain' in careful cursive writing.

After a few more minutes of watching, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, checking her texts with a small frown. She already had seven missed calls and twelve new texts from Grantaire. She chewed her lip as guilt washed over her, her thumb hovering over the screen. She knew she should text him back and let him know that she was okay but she was still hurt and she was too stubborn to text him back right now. He'd be fine for one night, she'd been gone for long before…

She quickly glanced up as she heard voices on the other side of the street and she caught sight of two men walking towards her. She hesitated as she looked back down, concentrating on the phone in her hands as they passed her.

The two men fell into a comfortable silence as they made their way into the park. Combeferre hesitated, glancing toward the young woman that sat alone on the bench as he glanced at his watch. It was almost two in the morning and it wasn't the best place for anyone to be alone but she didn't seem to mind, or be in distress.

His friend sighed in frustration as he tugged at his arm, forcing him to continue to walk past the girl, leaving her alone with her phone on the bench as they disappeared out of sight.

Eponine looked up as soon as they were gone, glancing over her shoulder in time just to see a mop of brown hair, accompanied by a blonde haired man disappeared around the corner and behind the collection of tree behind her.

She frowned as she stared after them before slowly shaking her head and looking back down at her phone. Grantaire had sent her another text and she was hesitant to open it. She sighed as she stared at the screen, debating what to do before she quickly clicked delete without even looking at it.

She tucked her phone away in her pocket before standing and straightening her jacket out. She couldn't sit here all night, if he came looking for her he'd walk straight past here anyway and she needed some time on her own to calm down and clear her head.

She glanced back up at the bar in front of her, watching as the light was turned off upstairs and a few minutes later a blonde man stepped out onto the street and quickly locked the door. She hurriedly pulled her hood up and crossed the street, making her way towards him as he went to cross the street.

He looked at her figure approaching him warily as he crossed the road, moving off to the side as she got nearer to him. She rolled her eyes as she reached the footpath, glancing back at him to notice him doing the same thing as she was. His blue eyes set on her, waiting for her to move as she stood in front of the Musain.

She scoffed as she headed down the street, kicking a stone along the footpath. Did he really think that she was stupid enough to try and break into the café when he was still there? If she was going to try she would have done it when he was out of sight, or at least wait until it was much later than it was now.

It'd serve him right if she did break in now. It wasn't like he knew who she was or what she looked like. He probably didn't even think she was capable of doing it- She halted in the middle of the street, her brow furrowing as she slowly glanced back over her shoulder. The blonde man was no longer there, he was probably already halfway across the park and bars always made money… Money that could pay for rent or food…

She smirked to herself as she turned back around and continued down the street. She made her way around the block until she found herself stood in front of the Musain again. Inside the lights were still off and there was no sign of anyone waiting around, or in the park.

After checking to make sure the place wasn't alarmed and that she wasn't going to get seen on the cctv, she grabbed a hair grip from her pocket and set to work.

She crouched down in front of the door, and carefully snapped the hair grip in half before she began to bend it into the right shape. She pushed it into the lock before taking the other half of the grip and adding that in there as well. After a few minutes of carefully moving the grip around, the lock clicked open and she stood up, smiling smugly to herself as she pushed the door open.

She stepped inside, carefully looking around the room before closing the door behind her. She stood in complete darkness, letting her eyes slowly adjust to the dark before she took a step forward. She could make out the till from across the room, but the chances were that the money had been locked away in an office somewhere.

She carefully weaved between the tables and stepped behind the bar, raising her eyebrow as she grabbed a couple of bottles of wine and put them to one side. After this she was going to need something to celebrate with, and she wasn't going to spend the money on cheap wine when she could get it here for free.

She tapped a button on the till, the drawer springing open to reveal that she was right. There wasn't any money there…

She sighed as she glanced around, there was no sign of an office on this floor and she had no idea what was upstairs.

She carefully made her way back through the room, tugging her sleeves over her hands as she glanced back towards the door. She slowly made her way up the stairs, the wood creaking under her light weight.

She glanced through the railings that lined the edge of the stairs, making sure that there was no one up there before she stepped out into the room. Various posters and maps were hung on the wall, illuminated by the moonlight that broke through the windows.

The tables were all pushed together, some still hosting empty bottles from earlier in the evening. On one of the tables there was paper spread out, covered in writing both in black ink and in red.

She slowly stepped towards it, picking up one of the pages as she glanced down at it before she began reading it out loud to herself. "We must know where we are, and who we can rely on. If we want fighting men, we must make them. Have the wherewithal to strike. How many of us are there? We cannot put the work off till tomorrow. Revolutionaries-"

"Should always be ready," a voice interrupted her. She spun on the spot, dropping the piece of paper as if drifted to the floor. She stared at the man stood at the top of the stairs, shadows cast across his face as he watched her. Slowly, he began stepping towards her as he continued to recite the writing on the paper. "Progress has no time to lose. Beware the unexpected. We have to go over all the seams we've made and see if they hold."

She hurriedly stepped backwards, making her way carefully around the table as she yanked at her hood, making sure it covered her face until she found herself backed up against the wall, watching as the man silently gathered the papers into a pile and paused only to lean down and pick up the piece that had fallen to the floor.

"Why are you here?" He asked her after a few moments, his voice quiet as he continued his task. "There's nothing here for you to take."

He waited a few moments for her to reply but when she no made no sign that she was going to, he let out a small sigh before continuing. "The owners take the money home at the end of the night and before you ask, no I'm not the owner. I just have a key," He paused as he looked at her carefully before continuing. "But maybe that isn't why you're here. Do you work for the police?"

She frowned as she slowly shook her head before realising that the man wasn't looking her way. "No…" She replied quietly. "I don't work for the police. _Why _would I work for the police?"

He glanced up at her, the same blue eyes from earlier carefully examined her before he shrugged his shoulders lightly. "They would have their reasons, but I don't believe you need to know them. So, why are you here?"

She played with her sleeves awkwardly as she took a step forward. His eyes shot up again as he watched her, and he slowly placed the paper back down on the table. "Do you have nothing to say for yourself?"

"I don't have to answer to you," she snipped coldly as she crossed her arms against her chest.

A small flicker of a smile crossed his lips before they set back into a firm line. He raised his eyebrow, carefully stepping around the table, the moonlight falling on his face as he stood in front of the window.

She stared at him for a moment before she frowned. She knew that face, she'd walked past it a hundred times before, leaned up against the wall in the living room on one of Grantaires canvases. The unreadable expression and the blonde curls that framed his face. His chiselled features were not what she would call handsome, but to someone else maybe they were and he was wearing his signature red jacket. The red jacket that Grantaire had painted carefully onto paper plenty of times only to rip it to shreds before he had even finished it.

"What's your name?" She asked him suddenly, hurriedly taking a couple more steps forward.

He frowned at the question, his lips tightening as he got a glance at her brown hair, escaping from beneath her hood. "Enjolras."

"Just Enjolras?" She asked, raising her eyebrow. "Is that your first name or your surname?"

"I don't use my Christian name. Many of us here don't," he informed her. "It's my surname. Although, I fail to see how that has any relevance right now."

She smirked as she tilted her head to the side, slowly rocking on her heels as he waited for her to reply. "I like to know who I'm talking to, _Enjolras_."

He sighed impatiently. "What's your name?"

"That doesn't matter," she told him as crossed the space between them and carefully looked up at him. He reached out to move her hood out of the way, only for her to quickly dart back, avoiding his touch. "Don't."

"You might as well show me your face now," he told her with a huff. "I'm not going to ring the police. There's too much stuff here that I wouldn't want them to get their hands on. Besides, you haven't taken anything."

"But I did pick the lock and let myself in, that's against the law," she told him with a smirk. "Or did you not know that?"

His eyes narrowed as he raised his head before turning back to the table grabbed the papers once more. He quickly began placing them in his satchel, making sure not to crease any of them. "I'm a law student. I know that you were breaking the law, but you've been here for at least a quarter of an hour and you haven't taken or broken anything. Have you?"

She hesitated, remembering the bottles of wine she'd put to one side downstairs before she slowly shook her head. Her hood slid down slightly but she quickly grabbed it, yanking it back in place. "No," she sighed. "So what do you do up here, anyway?"

"That doesn't matter," he told her, stepping towards the stairs. "We should really be going. We're not meant to be in here after hours. We have to close up and go just after midnight. I just came back for my speech."

She ignored him as she wandered over to the far side of the room, glancing at the map that was pinned to the wall with various markings on it. She frowned as she looked at it closer, trying to see it more clearly. "What are all of these?"

"Look, we really have to get out of here. It doesn't matter what that is. Come on," he called impatiently as he remained at the top of the stairs.

She shook her head slowly. "Are these some kind of… barriers? I don't get it," she told him as she pulled it off the wall.

His eyes widened as he moved towards her, reaching out for the map. She turned around, holding it out of his reach as she examined it. "They are, aren't they?" She asked him. "But how are you going to get in if it's all blocked off? _Why_ are you blocking it off?"

"Give that back," he demanded, trying to reach around her again. "It's none of your business!"

Her eyes widened as she spun on the spot, staring up at him. "You're the leader of that protest group, aren't you?" She asked him suddenly. "That's why you asked if I was with the police!"

He lunged forward, gripping her wrist tightly as he slowly peeled the map out of her hand. She stared up at him, her eyes widening as he brought his face closer to hers. She stared at him, holding her breath whilst his was hot against her cheek. She slowly allowed him to back her up against the wall until he was only inches apart from her. "Don't touch my stuff," he told her quietly. "_Ever._"

They were interrupted by the wail of sirens outside and Enjolras quickly let go of her and hurried over to the window. His eyes widened as he stared down at the street. "Shit," he breathed. "The police are here. Damn it! Someone must have seen you!"

She quickly turned on the spot, looking around the room. There was no way out other than down the stairs or through the window. Enjolras pushed past her, quickly grabbing a few pieces of paper scattered on the side as he headed towards a door off to the side.

She hurried after him, glancing back over her shoulder as the door opened down stairs and voices shouted up to them. He turned to glare at her as he hurriedly unlocked the door. "There's a fire exit," he told her. "We can climb down it."

She rolled her eyes as she grabbed his arm, yanking him away from the door and towards one of the windows. He stumbled after her as he pulled at his wrist, trying to get back to the room he had just revealed. She forced the window open before staring at him. "Jump," she ordered.

He began turning away from her but she yanked his wrist sharply, digging her nails into his skin to get his attention. "I said jump!"

He hesitated before quickly nodding his head as the voices grew closer and stuck his head out of the window as he looked down at the ground. They were one story up and there was a small path just below them but grass surrounded it and if he was lucky he would hit that. He sighed as he dropped his bag, watching it hit the ground with a quiet thud before he carefully sat on the edge of the window and swung his legs outside. He took a deep breath as he stared at the grass below him before closing his eyes tightly and jumping.

Eponine hurriedly made her way out of the window, balancing on the ledge as she slid the window shut. Without thinking, she jumped like she had many times before. The fall only took seconds, but it felt like longer as the bitter wind wrapped around her, forcing her hood to fall from her head. She kept her eyes closed, waiting for the thud but instead she stopped mid fall. She opened her eyes wide before realising that he'd caught her, holding her tightly into his hands. "Okay?" He whispered.

She nodded her head as she pushed away from him and he quickly grabbed hold of his bag. Quickly, she grabbed his wrist and forced him to run across the small patch of grass, ducking down out of sight of the police officers that waited on the other side of the building in case the intruders tried to escape that way.

They made their way into a patch of trees, slowing their steps as they maneuverer the thorns and bushes that covered the ground. Enjolras followed her carefully, trying to avoid the crunching leafs under his feet as the voices grew louder behind them.

It didn't take long until they were out on the street, away from the building but Eponine didn't slow down. He hurried after her as she jogged down the street, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed. She led him down a couple of alleyways, making her way through the maze of streets that surrounded them until they came out on the other side of the park. He frowned as he reached for her, grabbing at her wrist as he turned her around to face him.

He frowned as he looked down at her face, taking in the dark eyes that stared up at him. She was younger than he thought she would be, and different… Different in a way that he couldn't describe. He'd made up an image in his mind of what she would look like and she was nothing like that. There were no rough lines, no scars on her face. The only piercings were in her ears and there were no signs of tattoos crawling out from under clothing. She looked young… and innocent.

Her eyes widened as she realised that her hood had fallen down and quickly reached for it but his hand tightened around her wrist. "What's your name?" He asked her again.

"That doesn't matter," she told him, taking a step back as he kept hold of her.

"Tell me," he requested, his expression softening. "Tell me your name and I'll let you go."

She opened her mouth before her eyes darted past him, staring behind him before she shook her head. "We have to go. They're coming this way."

"Where?" He asked her.

"Go home. Go to bed," she told him. "Do you live far away?"

"No, I live just around the corner – you should come with me. You can lay low. You can't go wandering about on your own. They'll catch you."

She smirked as she shook her head. "If it wasn't for me they would have arrested you," she told him. "You were going to climb down the fire escape!"

He frowned slightly. "I wouldn't have gotten caught without you. It would have been fine. Besides, I have keys for that place, they couldn't have arrested me for unlocking the door."

"Then why are you running?" She asked him. He opened his mouth to reply before closing it again and setting his lips in a firm line. He didn't have to answer her, he had no reason to and he was about to tell her that but before he could she had managed to twist her wrist out of his grasp and set off down the street.

He quickly hurried after her, jogging down the street but by the time he reached the junction she was already out of sight. He frowned as he glanced back over his shoulder, watching as the police headed towards the entrance of the park before he pulled his own hood up and headed down the street with a sigh of defeat.

Whoever she was, she was gone and Paris was big enough that he's probably never see her again.


End file.
